~My version of...~

  You've tattood my soul
Stains of pink and white.
Clouds of emotions,
Shades of bright.

  I see a lit horizon,
And my mouth is pouring out steam.
I'm here again..
Around me bar-stools.
Glass, and friends.
They've made me a hooligan.

  Cherry sour, whiskey sweet lips.
I'll hold your hand, You squeeze my grip.
I'm lost in you tonight.

Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I'm in a repetative motion,

  Your tongue to part my heart,
And your teeth chatter against mine.
I've inhaled your breath.
And your lips like wine.
I've smelled your fear.
And hesitation.
Dipped my cup in the clear,
And revelled in your persperation.
I'm a fiend against your skin,
And carry your body through the bend.
Shatter against me!

  I hate to see you in pain,
But love the look on your face.
I'll give you more than you can ask,
If you'd give me a trace.

Tracing, Traces, Trace upon your thigh,
And trapped by intertwined feet.
Give myself as a staple,
And finally admit defeat.

I have nothing more to say.

~Directional
Worth~

I've been up and down these rows,
Of the same 'ol shit that everyone knows.
But don't take it
for a second.
I've got time to kill
right now.

Flea is just an analogy.
Two cents too
broken
glass.
and curious curios of the past.
And still they barter
for trash
and treasures,
thats forgotten
the past
and the present

I've dutifully asked.
And still no answers.
But still I ask,
to keep me in

sane, without direction.
My life in constant introspection.
I'm a dime
for the table,
and barter
me from a quarter.
My two cents 'til the end.
I've been promised gold, and silver...
But I settle for tin.

I can truely admit now...
I'm a flea market failure.